Warm Ticking Crates
by WolfOfHearts
Summary: A quietly ever expanding mix of all my You related things. Mostly ficlets, drabbles and oneshots. (Rating increased to M because of harsh curses in Meeting.)
1. Sick

You are sick.

Sick of the stares, the whispers, the pointing. You're sick of happy Night Vale couples glowering at you, sick of mothers clutching their children close to them. You're sick of the voice that feels like spiky velvet in your head, sick of the dark planet, sick of having flashbacks to that night. You are sick of pretty much everything.

And you are also angry.

Angry at Cecil for revealing your personal life to the world, angry at him for allowing the man who was not short and the man who was not tall to find you. You're angry at him for making you look like a nutcase, angry at him for everything about that night.  
You're angry that the planet still haunts your mind, angry at the scar on your neck from the knife. Angry at the loss of your car, of your job, of your former life. Angry at anything that triggers your memory. You are angry about pretty much everything.

There is one thing though, that you're not sick of or angry about. One thing that seems to be a speck of light in the dark existence you now inhabit. One thing your desperately want to talk to, one thing you want to get to know, one thing you've fallen in love with.

Too bad it's already taken.


	2. Fluffy Hair

One thing you are aching to touch is Carlos the Scientist's hair. It looks so damned fluffy, with its messiness and spiking up all over the place. You want to run your hands through it, rub your cheek against it, pet it like a cat. But you can't. No matter how much you want to, you simply can't. Because Carlos isn't yours, and never will be. No, he belongs to Cecil, you have to remind yourself when he passes you on the street, labcoat flapping in the wind with his beautiful hair softly ruffled. It's so hard, though.

He is, as Cecil says so often, perfect.

You know if you really didn't care, if you disregarded the potential consequences, you'd have done more then play with the scientist's hair by now. But you've learned your lesson. And it hurts. It hurts so much.

When you sit out on your porch and stare up at the radio light, you can't help but be so damned envious of Cecil. He's got everything: a job he enjoys and that people pay attention to, a boyfriend he loves and that loves him back, a stable home. In contrast, you have nothing now.

You've come to realize that maybe you never did.


	3. Smoke

You first met it at the entrance to the city.

You had not meant to wander out that far, but things happen- maybe for a reason. You were standing on the spot where the highway turns to dirt and leads into the Main Street of town. Dark shapes wound at the edges of your vision, and the desert in front of you seemed to swim. It was all a illusion however; nothing but a trick to keep Night Vale citizens in and most outsiders out.

It has never worked on you.

You had felt something brush against your leg and looked down, snapped out of your trance. It was a dog of some sort, a German Shepard looking thing. The one oddity about this canine was that its fur is smokey -literally made of smoke, you realized as your hand passed through its head- and is a deep purple hue that rivaled Night Vale's sky. You smiled crookedly at the smoke-dog. "Hello, dog," you murmured to it, and it nuzzled your leg, muzzle phasing into your calf. You could still feel its touch, though- it was little creepy.

The smoke-dog had then pulled away from you and started off back towards the town. It stopped after a few paces and looked back at you. It seemed hurt that you did not follow it so willingly, and you could not help but smile a bit. The smoke-dog had flicked its tail back and forth, a few purple fire sparks flying off in all directions. "I'm not coming," you had said, shaking your head. It narrowed its eyes and then gave you a wolf shrug, loping into the nearest shadow and disappearing.

You aren't too sure what the smoke-dog is, or why it shows itself to you. No one you ask says they have ever seen a purple smoke dog, or any kind of dog. (They aren't real, remember?) you are pretty sure this smoke dog is real, though. It seems too real to be another Night Vale prank, anyway.

God knows you could use something solid to believe in.


	4. Protect

**A/N: This is a sort of companion to "Smoke", told from the "smoke-dog's" point of view. It is still in second person, so I hope it is not too confusing!**

* * *

The static eyed human is even more interesting then Carlos the Scientist.

You say this because you have never seen a human so sad, so alone, and yet so resilient. They have not given up, even after nearly dying. They have not given up even after losing everything- and you think that is why you like them.

The meeting on the entrance road was not the first time you had seen the human. It was simply the first time you made yourself known, and they took it well. (Better then Carlos did, anyway.) You had quietly come to stand next to them, and after they did not notice you, gently nosed their leg. They had seemed surprised for a moment, eyes frantic static flickers, and then calmed; they believed you were just a dog, be it a smoke-y apparition of one.

You then had pulled away and tried to led them back into town. You do not want to exert force on this human in order to keep them in the town, not with how much you like them and how unstable the forces around them are. They obviously refused, and you did not try anything else; you just swished your tail and shrugged as you trotted away into the dark. Humans are very much free willed creatures, and there is not much even a town can do to change that.

You do not know what the dark planet is, or why the static eyed human is cursed with it, but you intend to keep then from harm. You made sure that it -not the men there were not short or tall- did not hurt them out in that desert night. (You did not personally lift the static eyed human. bleeding from the sand, though; the human following you that night did. You suppose that human deserves more of the credit, since they did most of the work.) It's funny, really. You are so attached to these humans, more then you were ever supposed to be.

But that cannot be bad, you think. You will not let the citizens be hurt, not by Strex, not by the Glow Cloud, not by the wheat and wheat by-products. Even if they are not of purple desert blood, you will keep them safe at all costs- if it ends up making some of them hate you.

Because isn't it the job of the town to protect its people?


	5. Spark

**A/N: Sorry for not updating. Had a tad of writer's block, over it now. Enjoy!**

* * *

Someone is sitting in your booth seat.

Well, it's not really yours, but anyone with any decency knows you always sit here when you come to the Moonlite All-Nite Diner. Not even Steve Carlsberg has sat in your spot, not once. So whoever this is better either be new to Night Vale, or drunk. Not that you're a forex to be reckoned with, but still.

You slide in next to the culprit, gently brushing shoulders with them. They jump, looking at you with large eyes. "Oh! Hello!" they say, and you peer at their face. This is a highschooler, maybe a junior. They are actually a she, as well. With big brown eyes and and pale skin, it's very clear she's not from Night Vale. That softens the severity of the crime she has committed, but not much.

"Hi," you say, resting your hands on the table. She smiles warily at you. "Are you a resident here? I'm new, so I want to meet everyone I can." she says. "Not a pure Night Valian, but by now I suppose I'm as desert blooded as anyone. My name is You." The kid furrows her brow, frowning at you. "What kind of name is 'You'?" she asks. You shrug at her. "It's what Cecil dubbed me, and God knows we don't obey Cecil's very word- be it implied or not." you say. She laughs nervously, wringing her hands. "Is that the man on the radio?" You nod. She licks her lips, and swallows. "Ah. Thank you." she says.

You lean across the table, sighing loudly. "So why are you here?" you ask. "I'm part of Carlos' science team," she says. Your eyes widen. "You are? Well, that's something you don't hear every day." The kid sits back in the booth. "I'm more of a errand runner, though. Nothing too special." You shake your head. "That seems pretty important to me." She blushes. "Thank you," she says.

Enough chit chat, time to lay down the law of the diner. "What's your name, kid?"

"Haley," she says and you repeat it, nodding. "Well, Haley," you say, "you've committed a crime tonight." Her eyes widen. "What?" You nod, face as stern as you can make it. "It's not really that bad, but it's quite personal. You have taken my regular seat, and that's a little annoying." Hayley laughs and lets out a sigh of relief as she starts to move. You stop her, and she looks at you, surprised.

"But! You can sit here. I like you." Hayley blushes again, hiding her face behind auburn hair. "That's very nice of you," she says, "thanks." "No problem," you answer. "In fact, feel free to sit here whenever you like. It's not really my property, anyway."

Haley looks at you with a smile, and you return it. In that smile-exchange, unknown to you until later, a friendship sparks.


	6. Desert Service

**A/N: Heeeey, a Tragic Truth like one-shot! Haven't had one of these in a while. Just to clarify, before you read, Hayley is my OC -who I wrote about in Spark- and the smoke-dog is a wolf hybrid.**

* * *

You likes Hayley, they realize, even though they are still but friendly passing strangers.

Not in a romantic way, but more of a loving and possessive kind of liking, a little bit like a child with a favorite toy. If You had left the memory of Maria behind, then perhaps there would be room for real love- but they did not leave it behind; they have left the memories sitting in their heart, letting it burn acid holes through the flesh. Nonetheless, You finds they enjoy Haley's company, and they like to think she enjoys theirs just as much.

It would be hard to gauge that level of enjoyment right now, though. Being partners in clearing out the waterfront rubble does not constitute instant friends. Hayley pulls up the tumbleweeds, and You drags away the rocks. We make a good team, You thinks, sweating out together in the quiet and hot desert. Sometimes Hayley notes a passing bird or helicopter, and You stops whatever they are doing, intent on taking a look at whatever she has pointed out. (The young scientist thinks this is because of Night Vale's tendency to be dangerous and the fact anything could kill you; You thinks it's solely good manners- this kid doesn't know anything, does she?)

Hayley is scrambling up a pile of rocks to yank out a tumbleweed when she stops and yells to You, "There's a car out there!" You drops the rock they're carrying in surprise, screeching as the boulder momentarily crushes their toes and then rolls away. They girt their teeth and go to follow the girl, clambering over the rocks to stand unsteadily next to her. She points out at the shimmering horizon- a dark shape sits stark against the beige and blue. "Come on," she says as she jumps off the rocks and starts towards it. You hesitates, wringing their hands nervously before swearing under their breath and running after her. You catches up with her, panting hard. She glances at them. "Didn't you lose your car out here?" she asks. You bites their lip and says nothing. Hayley eyes them curiously but says nothing else.

You and Hayley reach the car, Hayley bouncing right up to it. You stays back, staring at it warily. "A Ford Probe," she mutters as she circles around the car. You wrings their hands again, eyes taking in their old car. A sense of dread begins to well up in their stomach, and they shiver. "Hayley," they say in a shaking voice, "let's go." She gives them an confused look. "Oh foot? We have a car here, You. Come on." With that, she pulls on the driver's door, and sits at the wheel. She nods at You through the window, mouthing "Get in". You takes a long breath, shakes their head, and opens the passenger door.

It's odd for You to be sitting back in this car. Their eyes keep glancing around, up, and at the radio button. There is an air of tension, one that even Hayley seems to sense. She turns the key, which is still in the ignition, and the car hums to life. You holds their breath, waiting, listening.

Cecil does not grace their ears today- it is a pop station instead; they sigh in relief. Hayley begins to drive across the sand, humming along to the song. You tries to calm down and sit back, closing their eyes against the glare of the sun. It is hot inside this car; the air conditioning must has broke sometime ago. You can feel their breath drop back dead onto themselves as they breathe, a misty weight collecting on their chest.

They finally reach the road into Night Vale; You can tell because the rumble of rock and sand changes to the smooth up and down of asphalt. They open their eyes, looking at Hayley, and then out at the road ahead. There is something sitting out there, smokey purple. Realization hits just as they speed up. The yell is out of You's mouth before they can stop it.  
"Break! That's a dog!"

Hayley swerves at their yelp, spinning the wheel with all her weight. The Probe lurches off the road and slams nose first into the Night Vale welcome sign. You covers their face as the car smashes into it, glass from the broken windshield crashing down onto them. Hayley's curled into her activated air bag, eyes wide and fearful. A piece of glass has embedded itself in her cheek, and blood drips onto the seat of the Probe. You slowly sits up from their cowering state, wiping away the glass on the seat. There is a large cut on their head; they place their hand against the wound and find their palm soaked in redness when they pull it off again. They look over at the girl. "Okay?" they ask, and she nods, picking out the glass in her cheek.

Satisfied, You kicks open the now broken car door and rolls out- they land on their belly, looking up nose to nose with the smoke-dog. It blinks at them, vibrant black eyes matching their gaze. "Hey," You says shakily. The dog wags its tail once, an affirmative thump. You can hear Hayley getting out of the car, and smiles a bit. The smoke dog seems to frown and barks at You, making them flinch. It noses them, urges them to their feet. You stands, grinning a little more as Hayley makes her way around to them. "So," she says, looking down at the smoke-dog with a frown, "is this that dog you said you saw?" You nods, and Hayley crosses her arms. "It's like it's made of smoke," she breathes, running a hand through the dog when she goes to pet it.

The dog jerks away from her, looking at You once again before turning and beginning to trot back to the town. You stares after it, convinced it must mean something. Hayley wraps a arm around You and they look at her in surprise. "Well, now I know why I never do community service," she says, and You cannot help but laugh.

The sound echoes, a companion to the two as they stand alone on the road in the static and picturesque desert.


	7. Pie

**A/N: AAAA I HAVENT UPDATED THIS IN FOREVER. Sorry about that, guys. School and stuff has had me really busy. Anyway, here's a little thing to tide you over until the next chapter of Schrödinger's Cat and/or the next piece here is uploaded.**

* * *

"So, You," Hayley asks, "why do you hate invisible pie?"

You leans back in the booth, eyes closed. They push away the empty plate in front of them, licking their lips. "Well," they say, "to be honest, it's all because of Cecil. Though everything that's happened to me is kind of because of Cecil." Hayley frowns at You as she chases a stray cherry around her plate with her fork. "How'd he manage to do that?" You crosses their arms.

"The same way he ruined my life: doing his job."

"By broadcasting?"

"Yeah."

With that, You gets up from the table, looking over their shoulder at Hayley. "It involved wheat, black magic, and a fork. I had to get stitches, it was so bloody..." They sigh. "Bad memories. Let's let me shut up about it, please." Hayley finally stabs the cherry and pops it into her mouth. "Alright," she agrees, though her face reveals she's now even more interested.

You hurries out, Hayley trailing behind them. Once they're both standing out on the sidewalk in front of the Moonlite All-Nite Diner, under the street light, You looks at her curiously. "Aren't you needed back at the lab by now?" they ask and Hayley nods. "Yeah," she says gloomily. You arches an eyebrow and frowns a little. "Is something happening there? You don't sound so happy," Hayley sighs loudly and leans back against the light pole. Her hair looks like the Glow Cloud in the harsh orange light, and You shivers involuntarily.

"It's one of my coworkers," she says, "he's being a dick." You cocks their head. "If I may ask, what's he done?" She shakes her head and wags a finger at them. "It involved Tuesday, midnight, and blood. I'd rather not talk about it." You chuckles at her, and she narrows her eyes playfully at them. "Why are you laughing? Jerk."

At her mock anger, You whips a hand up to their mouth in shock. "Sorry," they mumble. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad." She shakes her head, laughing. "I was kidding, man. It's okay. But you aren't very good at detecting jokes, are you?" You nods reluctantly, frowning at her. "I guess," they say quietly, eyes downcast for a moment. Hayley gently slugs their shoulder. "I'm messing with you. And don't be sad; that's fine if you don't get it. Everyone's different."

You leans against Hayley, frown gone for the moment, making her look at then with a half-smile. "You're a good person, you know that, You?" she says softly. "No one I know here would apologize that quickly and be so submissive about it, even after they knew the other was kidding around. Heck, you're not anywhere near as bad as some people say; in fact, you're a lot better." You glances away at that. "People talk about me?" they murmur.

Hayley bites her lip. "Well, yes. That same coworker I mentioned earlier says he hates you; says something about you being a undesirable loner who can't be trusted and is a total nutcase. Also thinks you're not androgynous. If you ever get hate from anyone verbally, he's to blame- he spreads rumors like wildfire all the time." You blinks in silence, their eyes kicking up the static frequency. "Oh," they say after a moment of silence.

And even though they both lapse into quiet togetherness, Hayley doesn't miss the note of shakiness in You's single worded whisper.


	8. Trust

**A/N: Hey. An update. Whaddya know? **

* * *

You are frozen.

You cannot think, cannot move, can only watch blindly as Hayley struggles. You want to help her, to free her from the monster that's taking her, but you can't. Not with how your legs have turned to lead and your vision swirling with spots of violet and black, and most certainly not with _it_ sitting lazily just out of your sight. If you had wanted to, you could have looked up, just one tiny glance.

_No._

You grit your teeth and try to stand from where _it_ had made you fall. You can feel _it_ pushing you back, trying to convince you to stay. Maybe before, when you had had nothing to fight against it for, you have obeyed. But not today; not anymore. You ball your fists and push up onto your feet. The sound of your rising alerts Hayley's attacker, and they turn, eyes narrow.

They person says something, but you cannot hear them. You cannot even hear your own breath, with _it_ in such close proximity. Your eyes flicker up for a moment, but you cover them hastily before they can register what they see._ I said no._ You take a large breath, deep enough that you can feel the rise and fall of your chest, deep enough so that it reassures you are alive, and then speak without hearing.

_"Let her go,"_

The person arches an eyebrow, and you can tell they're wondering how you, of all people in Night Vale, are going to stop them, how you are going to stop him, of all people. You are not afraid of this man, though; he is not as bad as _it_ or as Cecil. He is an ant bite compared to them. You step towards them, raising your fists with a growl. He throws his head back and laughs, a silent spectacle that makes you hesitate for a moment before kicking him as hard you can you can in his crotch.

You don't have to be able to hear to know he's screamed; it shows right on his face as he crumples to the pavement. With slow and deliberate footsteps, one eye on him, you hurry to Hayley's side. She'd been shoved up against the wall when he'd attacked her, and now cowers among the couple of soggy cardboard boxes. You glance her over, and are relived to find only minor bruises on her shoulders and wrists. You offer a hand to her, and she starts.

For a moment, Hayley glares at you with such an insane raw sense of survival blazing in her eyes that makes even _it_ shrink back. Then her eyes soften in recognition and she grasps your hand. You carefully help her to her feet, giving her a half smile. She blinks at you quietly and then wraps her arms around you as se buries her face in your chest. You gape at the top of her head in shock.

She stays with her face pressed into your chest for only a second more, before she extracts herself from you and turns towards her attacker. Hayley spits something at him, slams her foot right down onto his nose; you squeeze your eyes shut as her foot makes contact. Hayley then put a hand on her shoulder, prompting you to glance at her. She smiles, and something about the smile is so angry and pure and radiant that _it_ pauses, whimpers, and then, to your even greater shock, flees your head.

You stumble as you regain your entire body, shaking your head fiercely. Hayley pushes you back onto your feet. You look at her worriedly, the terrors left in your head from _it_ dispersing almost instantly for once. "A-are you okay?" you stammer. She bites her lip. "Yes," she answers tersely. You then grasp her hand, making her gasp, and run, pulling her along. You lead her out of the alley, and do not let go until you reach her car.

Hayley blinks at you as you let your hands release. You think you see tears shimmer in her eyes, but you cannot tell; she blink them away too fast. She unlocks her car and quickly hops in; you follow suit into the passenger seat. Then you just sit in the compressed silence, one hand on the armrest. You are a little confused when Hayley reaches over and squeezes your hand.

"Thank you," she says, and you give her a little smile. She's not finished, though: "The dark planet showed up, didn't it?" she asks, and you look away. "Yes," you mutter bitterly, silently cursing _it_ for having such a strong hold on you. To your surprise, Hayley squeezes your hand again. "I knew it. Only it could have made you hesitate that long for someone you love, right?" She shakes her head. "I trust you a lot, You. I knew you wouldn't let him get away with too much."

Your eyes widen. "You trust me?' you say softly, cocking your head in confusion. "You trust me even after all you know about me?" She nods at you without a moment of hesitation. "Yeah," she says, "none of that stuff matters, anyway. You're a new person out here in Night Vale, and no matter what happened before, it doesn't matter. So, yes, I trust you. I trust you a whole lot."

You only catch a glimpse of Hayley's smile as you go and hug her.


	9. Meeting

**A/N: So here is Meeting, a first taste of Hayley's science team coworkers. Hope you enjoy. (To anyone reading who has also read Schrödinger's Cat and is wondering when the heck the next chapter is coming, soon is my answer. For more updates and EOAs, please read my profile.)**

**WARNING: Contains minor harsh cursing and deliberate misgendering.**

* * *

Hayley has decided, against her better judgement, to introduce you to her coworkers. You have told her this is a bad idea, over and over. She hasn't listened.

And in a way, neither have you- the promise of food she's made is a very convincing one, especially when you consider the fact she never breaks promised and that the food is probably going to be strawberry pie. You lick your lips absently. You didn't eat breakfast this morning, thanks to her. She'd been sitting on your steps when you ducked out to get the newspaper. One quick explanation and suddenly you were walking with her back to her car. Your relationship seems a little strange in that regard, you think.

You've accompanied her as she did early morning errands, ate lunch with her, and meandered around the town with her. It is only now, as she drives into a parking space behind the lab, that you realize you have spent nearly half the day with her. It is a nice thought to have, and you smile. You cannot think of anyone else you would want to spend this time with- not even Maria, crazy as that notion sounds to you.

Hayley comes over to your side, peeking at you through the window. "You gonna come out or what?" she asks, grinning. You meet her gaze with a friendly blink as you push open the door and step out. It is cold and gray out, but not unpleasant- the sky is a young gray gosling, with the tiniest tint of purple. The wind nips at your ears, and you smile at the crispy feeling it leaves. Hayley shakes her head. "Weirdo. C'mon,"

You follow her into the back entrance into a long hallway. There's no one there, and your footsteps echo eerily as you walk behind her. She seems to notice the absence, because she frowns. "Odd, Markus is usually out here playing Pokemon when he's supposed to be on gaurd duty. Must be something going on today." She looks at you with a sideways glance. "You'll like Markus,"' she says, "he's really easy-going and friendly. A little bit of a nerd, too." She chuckles to herself. "More of a big nerd, actually. Oh, here's the break room."

She stops outside a open door at the bending end of the wall, poking her head in. "Anyone here?" she calls. Silence meets her words and then: "Yeah, me. How you doing, Hayley?" She bites her lip at the voice, and you gently poke her. "What's wrong?" She looks at her feet, wringing her hands; they trace over the still visible bruises from the attack on her only a few days before. You cock your head. "Is it-?"

"Hayley, who the fuck is this?"

She shuffles her foot, mouthing "the guy I said was being a dick" at you. Then, to the guy, she says, "A friend. Where's everyone?" The guy crosses his arms. "Does it matter?" he says, voice accusing and hurt. She sighs. "Yes. Did they go out to the house that doesn't exist?" He shakes his head with scoff. "Pssh, no. They're all out at Big Rico's for the mandatory pizza. Wimps,"

"But the SSP will hurt you if you don't obey the law," you murmur quietly, making him look over at you with a glare. "They can't hurt me," he says loftily, and then cuts off with a sharp gasp. He narrows his eyes at you, green eyes biting into your face. "You're the asshole who kicked me!" he yells, and then his eyes widen as he takes you in again. "Oh," he says, "oh. It's you, the man who left his wife." He shakes his head at you as you stare at him, jaw dropped in anger and shock. "With such a ugly temper and even uglier face, I'm surprised she didn't leave your sorry ass first."

"Rick!" "What, Hayley? I'm just telling the truth as I see it."

She balls her fists. "You're being a jerk, that's what you're doing!" Her eyes flash at him and she steps toward him. "For god's sake, at least use their preferred pronouns!" You smile weakly at her defense. Rick rolls his eyes, leaning against the doorframe. His black hooded jacket looks bleached in the lab light, and the edges of his jeans are ripped; you do not think you want to know why. "I don't why that's such a problem. He's clearly a guy,"

Hayley lets out a small screech between her teeth and then punches him straight in the nose. There's a loud crack and he whips his hands to his face, blood pooling from between his fingers. He glowers at you both over his cupped hands. "You bitch," he hisses through his hands. You feel your own blood begin to boil. He hurt her, and now he's insulting her? You can't allow that. Heck, you don't even care too much that he's purposely misgendering you; you had expected as much; you just care that he doesn't harm Hayley again. And that he leaves Maria out of this.

"Call me what you want," you say, "but leave her alone." Rick's eyes smolder at you. "Don't tell me what to do, you disgusting loner. You're not even from Night Vale; you got nothing over me." You grit your teeth. "I can kick you in the crotch again," He doesn't flinch. "I'll bash your skull in," he says stoically, and you swallow nervously, because he seems incredibly serious.

Hayley sighs loudly, making you look over at her worriedly. In that moment, Rick punches you in head. You yelp, reeling back as your vision falters into a flash of white and black, tripping over yourself and landing onto the tile heavily. It hurts, a lot; one of your teeth knocks against the tile and chips. You've bitten through your lip and your mouth fills with coppery, suffocating blood. You hold it under you tongue, eyes watering as you push yourself back to your feet. The tooth chip floats around in the blood, and in anger, you spit it right onto a smug Rick's shirt. His eyes turn to tiny toothpick pricks of rage. "That's my favorite shirt," he hisses, aiming another blow at you. You dodge this one, letting his fist crash into the solid wall behind you. As he pulls it back with a curse, Hayley grabs your arm and hurries past the room, yanking you along.

Rick, thankfully, doesn't follow you. He just yells obscenities after you both, cursing you and saying you have hell to pay. You do not believe that; you have already gotten enough to pay. Hayley pushes you into the nearest bathroom, and you gratefully spit out the new blood welling in your mouth into the trash can. She makes you sit on the sinks, peering at your severed lip. "You'll need stitches," she grumbles, handing you some paper towels. "Hold them against your lip. Try not to swallow."

She then starts to wash her hands, muttering under her breath. The blood swirls with the soap as it drains, a deadly dance of cleanliness and dirtiness you cannot understand. "I hate him. I hate him so much," she says, her voice rising at the end through her nose. You blink slowly at her, trying your best to convey a nod of agreement. Hayley sighs and leans against the sink, looking at you, reaching over to flick away a spot of blood on your cheek. "Any better?" she asks, and you shake your head. It's still a very heavy wound, and you are having trouble not swallowing all the blood; it laps at the back of your throat unpleasantly.

You glance about curiously as you apply pressure to your lip. The bathroom is very standard; a few stalls, hinges rusting, sinks clogged with paper towels, and some subsequently almost empty paper towel dispensers. There's a window next to the last stall, and you can just see the cloudy sky outside. For a split second, you think you see a canine face looking back at you. Then you blink, and there's nothing there. You shrug to yourself; weirder things have happened.

The door suddenly creaks open and Hayley jumps upright, fists ready. Then whoever it is enters, and she calms. They step into your view, and you cock your head at them- at her, excuse you. It's weird; she's dressed up in a stereotypical cowgirl getup, complete with faded brown leather boots and a cowboy hat. A red bandana is fastened around her neck, which rumples a little as she pops her neck. "Howdy, Hayley," she says, and Hayley sighs in relief. "Hey, Blue," she says, bending down to give the short cowgirl a sideways hug. Blue hugs her back, only reaching her stomach. Then she notices you. "Who's this bandit?"

"Blue, this is You- oh whoa, a rhyme." She chuckles to herself. "You, this is Blue." You give the cowgirl a small wave. She narrows her eyes at you with a curious expression. "What happened to your mouth, partner? Looks like you ripped it or something," Hayley sighs loudly. "Rick happened," she answers, and you nod a little. Blue crosses her arms. "Bah! Two bit, yellow belly coward he is. I heard what he did to ya, Hay- sounded nasty from what Cece described." Your eyes widen and you swallow the blood in your mouth forcefully. "Cecil did a broadcast about that?" you mumble through the paper towels, and she nods. "Didn't mention you, though; just talked about Hayley and the cowardly rat." You sigh in relief. "Good, that's what I want."

"Where is everyone?" Hayley asks, and Blue shrugs at her. "Markus called in sick, and he sounded real bad. Don't know where Gabriel, Autumn, or Rocco are. Sorry to to disappoint," Hayley smiles. "No, that's fine; I've just been worrying is all." She looks back at you. "Any better?" You shrug, spitting the paper out of your mouth. "I'll be fine," you say, and you mean it. She peers at you with motherly suspicion and then shakes her head. "Alright, fine."

Blue turns toward the door, looking over her shoulder. "Ya'll coming or not?" Hayley and you exchange a glance, and you mouth the words 'pie?'; she nods. Your eyes brighten, and you follow her and Blue as they lead the way out of the bathroom. You all head out back through the back entrance, without any more direct interaction from Rick. (You do hear him growl behind the door as you pass, though; it was some kind of remark about your intelligence that just slips by your hearing range.)

Hayley, Blue and you pile into the car, you taking one of the back seats. Hayley glances at you over the seat. "You better not be bleeding on my seat," she warns with mock anger, and you unintentionally flinch. "I'm not," you murmur and she smiles, turning the key and starting the car as she does. "Thanks."

"No problem?"

Blue chuckles. "You're being harsh, Hay." She shrugs as she pulls out of her spot. "It's how I show my love," she says. The cowgirl smirks at you both. "Then I'm supposing you have a lotta love in ya for this person, eh? Eh?" Hayley blushes fiercely. "Not like that! Oh my god!"

You laugh nervously with your own face growing red, because beneath her outright disapproval at Blue's question, there's a hint of sincerity in her face. And that both scares you make your heart seem to become ten times lighter. Whatever your relationship, you think, you really do enjoy it.


	10. Colored Smoke, Colored Light

**A/N: We deviate from human interaction to canine interaction. This takes place the night of Meeting, afterwards. **

* * *

It is the middle of the night and you are following the smoke dog. You don't know exactly why you follow it willingly into the desert. It just kind of happens, and you don't do anything to stop it. It's a good guide, leading you up and around the rocks and sand with practiced ease, as if it has treaded this same path over and over again. You are not quite as graceful; you trip and stumble and slide, but you manage to keep up with the dog. (Or is it that it slows down to match up with you?)

It leads you into a clearing, devoid of anything- a ring of old and weathering rock runs the farthest edge, and above you is the darkest, cleanest patch of obsidian sky you have ever laid eyes upon. It is only after you turn your eyes from the landscape that you hear the familiar ticking. You look around furiously to try and find the source, jumping as something brushes your legs.

It is another smoke dog, though this one is not purple. Instead, it is a muddy gold color with white eyes; it is a inverted mirror of the other. Gold Dog grins up at you, teeth black and raggedy. You swallow nervously, glancing around the clearing again. This time you see the source of the ticking you had noticed before; crates, lots of crates, scattered around the clearing. Some of them are ticking, some are not. Purple Dog weaves in and out of the crates, sniffing the non-ticking ones with a disgruntled expression. It looks over at you and Gold Dog with a bark, the noise echoing across the desert void loudly. You flinch at the noise.

Purple Dog comes back and stands in front of you and Gold Dog, eyes meeting yours. In them you can see your reflection; a pitch black figure with eyes of ever moving static. You blink at Purple Dog, who gives you a dog grin and phases its tail through a crate as it wags said tail. Gold Dog glances at Purple Dog, barks, twists its head at you and then back, barks again. Purple Dog nods and then gently reaches over and grips your hand in its jaws. The feeling is akin to water vapor settling on your skin.

Purple Dog leads you slowly around the crates, up onto a ledge on the rocky perimeter overlooking the rest of the desert. Gold Dog joins you, jumping up to sit next to you on the left; Purple Dog has sat on your right side. One of the smoke dogs nudges you -you cannot tell which in the growing black, you think it was from your right- and turns your head towards the horizon.

There is a blinking red light up on the distant mountain. You stare at it, afraid and awed because you have not seen a light like this in forever. Night Vale's light was replaced months ago, a fact you have only barely begun to accept. You had liked the red light; it had made everything seem clear and understandable- this new light, white and boring, does nothing. You frown. Nothing does not seem like the right term; perhaps it is that the light does things but you cannot hear them or see them, not like you could with the red light.

Purple Dog stiffens and growls, making you snap out of your trance. Its hackles are raised, and it seems angry and afraid but mostly angry and- satisfied? Gold Dog's ears perk and you follow both pointy eared smoke dog's gazes and then you realize with a pang of red hot fear why Purple Dog is so angry and a little afraid- it's them. The men who nearly killed you.

You scramble up, leap off the ledge, and start to run. You almost trip over a crate in your haste but you right yourself and keep moving. There is a scramble on rock and the click of claws behind you and suddenly Purple Dog is running next to you, eyes narrowed, ears back. You dare a glance back over your shoulder; Gold Dog sits on the ledge still, staring at the men standing out in the desert with laser beam eyes. It is as if it is holding them still...or maybe calling them forward.

You do not care, you simply continue to run.

* * *

You don't stop running until you've reached the steps of your trailer. Only then do you allow yourself to go crashing face first into the pavement, heaving gasps of air. Your face stings and your hands protest the fall, but you lie there and let the painful smarting settle. Something noses your bare neck and you yelp, twisting to see. It is Purple Dog, tail swishing ever so slightly, sparks dancing from the tip. It gives you a canine smile- lips pulled back, teeth exposed. You swallow nervously as it lopes away back into the dark.

Whatever the dog had wanted you to see, you definitely saw.

* * *

**A/N: What did You see? What did they really see? That's up to you, dear reader. Perhaps what you imagine is the truth, hidden in purple and gold and a author's vagueness. This is Night Vale after all- anything could happen.**

**Thanks for reading! **


	11. Speak

**A/N: HOLY CRAP WTC UPDATE AND THE START OF PLOT WOW**

* * *

You're not sure why you've come back to this place. Maybe it looks different in the daytime, or perhaps a part of you thinks it's less threatening. It is still terrifying, and that emotion makes you question again why exactly you are sitting on one of the unticking crates, have been sitting there since dawn.

Suddenly, movement- someone coming over the crest of a near sand dune. You tense, rising ever so slightly off the crate. And then you relax. It is just Hayley, running towards you with Purple Dog on her heels. The dog is...holding something, but what you cannot tell. Hayley is yelling, and pointing behind her. You follow her frantic pointing and see...well, all you see is sand. Perhaps she is imagining things.

She comes skidding up over the rock perimeter, shoelaces clicking and flailing. She nearly trips over a crate, but rights herself and stands in from of you, panting. Purple Dog stands back on the rocks, the whatever it is still clamped in its jaws. Hayley soundlessly shoves a pool ball into your hands before dropping tiredly on one of the crates. You ignore the ball and stare at her. The desert is all panting and wind and quiet sand storms. "Look at it," she manages to say after a moment, and her voice is so raspy and panicked that you do.

It is a eight ball, but not. A piece of paper has been taped messily onto it; a shaky scrawl is written on the paper. You narrow your eyes as you read it. "Smiling gods, friendly dogs...beware, be aware." You look quizzically at Hayley. "What is this?" She shakes her head. "Dunno, found it out in that weird building. Think it has to do with Strex. Have you seen Goldie?"

You shake your head. You haven't seen Gold Dog since a few nights ago. Hayley leans back, inhaling deeply. "That's okay, thanks anyway." You blink at her. "Why are you so tired?" She looks at you with a frown. "I was exploring that building." She points to a patch of sand. "Can you...not see it?" You start to shake your head but freeze.

You can see something: static. Static that encompasses a large portion of the air around where Hayley has pointed, static so slight that it would only look like shimmering heat to the untrained eye. You lick your lips, and your mouth suddenly goes dry. "I can't," you say. "I can't see much of anything over there, save weak static." Hayley's frown deepens. "Static?" she asks and you nod. "Static. A little bit like heat waves but more noticeable to me. I'm not sure what they mean. What do you see over there?" Hayley looks toward the static. "Well, I see a building there. It's low and squat and one corner has fallen away into the deep underbelly of the place. That's where I was."

You open your mouth to reply when something drops into your lap and Purple Dog steps back from your left side. You give it a glare, somewhat spooked. Then you hear it. Ticking. From your lap. Hayley holds her breath and looks at the thing.

With hesitation, you do too.

It is a small box containing a still beating, ticking human heart. The edges of the clear box are plated with gold. You do not think it is real gold, though. You stare at the ticking heart, confused and a little nervous. It should not be ticking. Human hearts don't tick, only creepy persuasive maybe dark planet manipulated crates do. "I found it in the building," Hayley says. "Purple doesn't seem to like it too much." The dog intensifies her words with a loud, sudden bark. You flinch.  
"What are we going to do with it? They're obviously gonna come after it, right?"

Hayley doesn't not ask who "they" are. You are grateful.

"I could hide it, maybe. I could take it to the lab and study it." You shake your head. "Too easy. Too predictable. It must mean something to them." She bites her lip. "How do you know it means anything?" You glance sideways at one of the ticking crates. "I know," you say, "trust me." She shrugs. "Maybe we can let Purple eat it?" She giggles at the dog's look of disgust and despite your nervousness, you laugh a little too. "I was kidding, silly pup." Purple Dog growls under its breath.

"Well, whatever we do, we'd better get home and do it. Being here of all places can't be the right course of action, right?" You nod and hop off of the crate, handing the box and ball back to Hayley. She drops them carefully into her pockets. Then she takes the lead, and you follow willingly.

Surprisingly, or maybe not, Purple Dog doesn't accompany you two back to town.


End file.
